He flung her away from him with a gesture of anger, and began to walk about the room. Mrs. Belswin remained silent, savagely disappointed at the failure of her plan, and presently Ferrari began to talk again in his rapid, impulsive fashion.
"If there was any gain. Yes. But I see not anything. I would work against myself. You know that, Signora Machiavelli. Ah, yes; I am not blind, cara mia. While il marito lives, you are mine. He will keep you from the little daughter. But he dies--eh, and you depart."
"No, no! I swear----"
"I refuse your swearing. They are false. Forget, il marito--forget the little daughter! You are mine, mia moglie, and you depart not again."
Mrs. Belswin laughed scornfully, and put on her gloves again with the utmost deliberation. Then, taking up her umbrella, she moved quickly towards the door; but not so quickly as to prevent Ferrari placing himself before her.
"Where go you?" demanded the Italian, between his clenched teeth.
"To find a braver man than Stephano Ferrari."
"No; you will find no one."
"Won't I? Pshaw! I have found one already."
The Italian sprang on her with a bound like a tiger, seized her hands, and placed his face so close to her own that she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.